Ina…'
'Master…'
'Father…'
'Please… anyone…'
Kioku sat huddled atop a large rock, his small frame trembling violently. When he had first opened his eyes, he found himself on the hill where the temple once stood—but the temple was gone.
All around him was a world engulfed in flames. The home he knew burned endlessly, the fire refusing to die even under the pounding rain. But the strangest thing of all… were the monsters.
Giant, shadowy figures circled the hill like predators. They didn't dare step closer. They had tried before, but each time they approached, the flames near Kioku flared into a deep, unnatural purple, forcing them to retreat. And so, they lingered—patient, watching, waiting.
One of the creatures, a massive tiger-shaped horror, roared, making Kioku flinch and curl in tighter. Soon, others joined, and a chorus of monstrous roars filled the night, drilling into his mind, dragging out every dark thought he tried to suppress.
"Go away…" Kioku whispered, his voice breaking as he hugged himself tighter.
'There's no one here… Where did they all go? Why is everything burning? What are those things? They would've taken me with them… right?'
Tears welled in his eyes, thoughts racing faster, feeding his fear.
"I don't like this… I'm scared. Master… Ina… Father… please… I don't want to be alone…" Kioku's voice dissolved into silent sobs, the only sound around him now the howling chorus of beasts beyond the flames.
Then—everything changed.
The flames vanished. Not just around him, but throughout Ju—as if some unseen hand had snuffed them all out in a single motion. For a moment, silence. Then, the monsters stirred. Excited, eager, they advanced toward the hill.
Kioku raised his head slowly. Time seemed to move in fragments—the looming claws, the drifting embers of dying fire. And yet, in that frozen moment, he felt calm.
Then came the spark.
It wasn't in the air. It was in his soul. A small, fierce flame burning against the darkness.
During those endless days alone on the hill, Kioku had tried to kill himself—more than once. But every time, the flame had stopped him, burning one thought into his heart.
"To stand against authority…" he whispered, voice steady. "I can't die yet."
The beasts struck. Claws descended to tear him apart—
But they never reached him.
The creatures froze mid-motion, then began to tremble violently. One by one, they backed away, retreating into the darkness like cowards before a greater predator.
Kioku stared in confusion.
'Why did they—'
Then he felt it.
A coldness deeper than death seeped into his bones. The world darkened. The rain fell harder, but not a single drop touched the small circle of ground he stood on. Kioku's breath caught. A presence loomed behind him—vast, suffocating, yet strangely… familiar.
He turned.
And saw him.
A man stood a few steps away, tall and graceful. He wore a flowing black robe with wide sleeves, tied at the waist with a golden sash. His waist-length hair danced in the storm wind, framing a face of haunting, almost feminine beauty—too perfect, too sharp. But his eyes…
Those eyes swallowed everything. Not black like Kioku's—these were abysses, infinite and merciless. Staring into them felt like his very soul might be torn away.
"Child," the man spoke, voice even, calm. "Are you alright?"
Kioku opened his mouth to answer—but the realization struck.
'There's someone else here.'
Before he knew it, his legs were moving. He stumbled forward and clung to the man's robes, burying his face as sobs tore from his throat.
"They're gone…" Kioku choked out between cries. "Everyone's gone—I was all alone… there were monsters—and their voices—they wouldn't stop and I—"
"It's alright," the man said softly, resting a hand on Kioku's head. His gaze, however, turned cold, fixed on the distant shadows where the beasts had fled. He inhaled deeply, his voice low, almost dangerous.
"You're not alone anymore."
---
♤ ♤ ♤
"So… do you always hug strangers and cry on them?"
Kioku's cheeks burned. The graceful man laughed softly, a sound that only made the boy flush deeper. After calming down, Kioku realized what he had done. Hastily, he wiped his tears, trying to regain composure.
'I can't let Ina know about—'
The thought stabbed through him like a knife. His hands clenched, his gaze falling to the ground.
'Ah… right. She's not here…'
"Hey," the man's voice pulled him back. "Don't start crying again."
Kioku looked up. The man stood just a few feet away, smiling faintly. Now that Kioku really looked at him, a question formed in his mind.
'Just how tall is he…? Is he even human?'
"I wasn't going to cry," Kioku muttered.
"I can see the tears forming in your eyes," the man teased.
"There's no tears!"
The man laughed again, and Kioku scowled, pouting as he turned away. Annoying bastard.
"You're just a child," the man said lightly. "It's fine to cry, you know."
"Crying is weak," Kioku mumbled.
"So… does that mean you're weak? Because you cried before?"
"Forget this," Kioku snapped, changing the subject. "Who are you?" He had never seen anyone like this before—not in Ju, not anywhere.
"Ah, just a passing figure who happened to witness a tragedy," the man replied casually.
A passing figure wouldn't have scared those monsters away, Kioku thought, suspicion sharpening his gaze.
"If you saw what happened here… then you know what happened to everyone, don't you?" His voice cracked slightly. For all his intelligence, for all the years of study that made him wiser than most his age, part of him still clung to hope.
Hope that they were alive.
"Hm. Indeed I do." The man's tone was cheerful, but his eyes carried something heavier. "Are you sure you want to know? You might cry again."
"Tell me," Kioku said firmly.
The man sighed, looking out toward the horizon. The rain still fell, washing away the ashes of a broken world. It was as if nature itself tried to erase the memory of what had happened.
"This land and its people were accused of colluding with the Accursed," the man said, his voice losing its lightness, growing cold and grim.
"So they were cursed—and burned alive."
The words crushed him. He had feared this, but he hadn't wanted it to be real. The reason he was alone wasn't because they left him.
It was because he was the only one left.
"If they cursed and killed everyone…" Kioku whispered, his voice hollow. "Why am I alive?"
"That… I don't know," the man said with a careless shrug.
"This is the fate of those who follow that madman. Your elders should never have made you worship him." Bitterness edged his voice—like a wound that had never healed.
"I didn't worship him because I was forced," Kioku shot back, fists clenching. "I worshipped him because I wanted to become like him."
The man barked a laugh. "Either you don't know who he really is… or you're a crazy little brat."
"Someone who stands against authority—that's who he is. That's who I want to become," Kioku said, voice steady now. That's why I can't die—not just for me, but for them too.
The man studied him for a long moment, then laughed again—louder this time, the sound echoing across the desolate land.
"What's so funny?" Kioku asked warily.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, child," the man said, grin curling cruel. "But that lunatic isn't who you think. The Accursed is nothing but a scheming wretch who fought the heavens for selfish, power-hungry reasons. That noble, heroic image in your head? A lie."
"You're lying," Kioku spat—but a sliver of doubt gnawed at him. Because if the Accursed truly was what he imagined… Ju would still be here. He would have saved them.
'But they're all dead.'
"He's not who you want to become," the man said coldly, turning his gaze to the sky. The rain eased, clouds breaking, sunlight bleeding through like fragile hope.
"You were right about one thing. Since the Third Age began, the Divine Council has ruled with an iron fist. Oppose them, and your name, your history—erased. Even the Shadow Realm, ruled by that bastard Accursed, does nothing."
He turned back to Kioku. His presence shifted, deep and heavy, pressing like a mountain. The air darkened. Sunlight dimmed. Shadows thickened. Kioku felt the cold again—the same, suffocating chill.
"This age… needs someone to stand against them."
His voice was low, dangerous. "The curse still lingers on you. Your eyes and mind will fail you soon. But I can heal you. I can take you from this ruin. Give you a home. And most important of all…"
He smiled—a devil's smile.
"I can teach you how to fight those high-and-mighty bastards on the Divine Council."
Kioku swallowed hard, instinct screaming danger. "Who… are you? And why should I trust you?"
"You can stay here," the man said flatly, "and rot in this wasteland—drowning in regret. Or… you can become something greater."
"Of course," his grin sharpened, "there will be a price. You'll pay it when the time comes."
"What price?" Kioku whispered.
"You'll know… when it matters."
"As for who I am—"
The ground trembled. Darkness surged like a living thing, swallowing the land. The sunlight vanished. The air filled with whispers, low and dreadful. The shadows beyond wailed like broken creatures before their master.
Kioku couldn't see. Not even with the blessing of Lord Hakai—the gift that let Ju's people pierce any darkness. This was deeper than night, deeper than death.
And then—his voice came.
"I have many names. Many faces. Countless enemies… and no allies. Neither man nor god dares call me friend—or foe."
Kioku's heart froze. Those words—he knew them. Words etched in the Annals of the Great Historian, the final chapter where the truth was spoken.
The darkness shifted. A hand emerged—black as void, reaching toward him.
"Darkness," Kioku whispered, eyes wide. "The First Seeker."